what's wrong with you?

I was never one to admit fault out loud, but I made mistakes. The kind that you can't forgive, not without a lot of time passing. She knew it. We both did. They were the kind of mistakes that she'd probably talk about later, and the kind she'd never call a mistake. There would be other words used. They were terrible things.

I wanted more than anything to take them back, but I couldn't say anything. It was better that she thought I was a monster than thought I could make mistakes. So when she said she was leaving I packed up my things. I offered to pay for the moving company. I think that hurt her even worse--I didn't ask her to stay. I didn't say anything at all, just that I'd help if she wanted. She declined. She looked at me like I was the worst person she'd ever known, and maybe that was true.

She sent a few nasty emails after that and I didn't respond to any of them. She called me a sociopath. She said some other things. But how could I do anything besides sit there and take it? I probably deserved it anyway.